


Carry That Weight

by bashert



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, Post-Unintended Consequences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 05:57:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1215226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bashert/pseuds/bashert
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mac gets the phone call about Maggie and Gary in Uganda.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Carry That Weight

**Author's Note:**

> So this had to happen after I wrote "You were a Kindness." I'm going to have to write some fluff to exorcise some of this angst, but this just had to happen. The title is taken from the Beatles song, and, yeah.

Mac was having a _day_. Actually, it was a whole week.

It started with bringing on Neal's friend (was it a friend? Mac was never sure when it came to Neal. She didn't think it went deeper than that, but she wasn't sure if friend was the best word to use either. His interest in Occupy Wall Street ran more personal than journalistic, and she wasn't sure _what_ exactly this girl was to Neal. Other than pissed as hell at him). Will had been a particular prick that night, and of course, because the Universe just really liked fucking with her, with all of them really, this girl knew someone who knew _something_  about Genoa.  

Genoa. Half of her wished she had never heard that word, the other half was already accepting their accolades and places in the history books. It was a _huge_ story. A game changer. _If_ it was true. And part of her problem, though she thought this might be petty, was that she just plain didn't like Jerry Dantana. And he had already decided, long before any real evidence started trickling in, that it happened. He was too convinced of it, too ready to skewer the current administration, and it left Mac with an uneasy feeling. He wasn't impartial; he couldn't be, which made him an unreliable journalist.

So yeah, between Genoa and the Occupy Wall Street fiasco, she'd had about enough for the week, and then came the call that Jim had been offered a one on one with Romney and had turned it down. _For a girl._ A girl who was not Maggie, which all but spelled disaster for all parties involved.

What Mac wanted, more than anything, was a stiff drink and a hot bath.

She was packing up her stuff when Will tapped on her door and stepped in. She looked up wearily, and he had always been good at reading her, so he immediately frowned in concern (and it was nice, really, that Will was showing her concern instead of anger or resentment. It was a really nice change of pace, even if he was dating someone else, and that someone else was Nina Howard. Nina was just another thing to add to Mac's overall bad mood).

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"I'm just tired," she shrugged off his concern. "What can I do for you?"

"I talked to that girl, that Occupy Wall Street girl," Will started. "I apologized to her."

"We already found the guy," Mac was confused.

"I know," Will nodded, "I just..I was really rough on her."

"You were," Mac acknowledged.

"So, yeah, I was just telling you that I apologized." Mac wasn't sure _why_ he was telling her. He didn't need to apologize anymore to get the information, but he had. And that didn't necessarily surprise Mac; she wasn't surprised that Will's conscience had kicked in and propelled him to apologize for his behavior, what surprised her was that he felt the need to tell _Mac_ about it, to prove to her that he wasn't as big of a dick as he sometimes came across as. Which was ridiculous because of all people, Mac _knew_ that he was a good guy at heart, and he certainly didn't need to give her more evidence to support that.

"Okay," Mac said simply. He opened his mouth to say more when her phone began ringing.

"Go ahead," he waved his hand and dropped heavily into one of her chairs. Mac distractedly answered the phone, cursing Will a little bit for holding her up. She could have been on the elevator on her way to a large glass of wine, but instead she was answering the phone and having a confusing conversation with Will (it seemed, lately and maybe _always_ , that all conversations with Will were confusing).

She was only half listening, then, when she heard the words _Uganda_ , _your associate producers_ , and  _casualty_.

"Wait," she froze. " _What_?" Will was on alert, straightening in his chair, his frown deepening.

"What?" He mouthed at her, and she shook her head and waved her hand and focused in on the conversation. Her mouth went dry, her hands started trembling, and she shook her head a few more times.

"Shit," she swore into the phone, and with shaking hands, she slipped the phone back into its cradle and buried her head in her hands.

* * *

Will wasn't sure why he needed Mac to know that he had apologized to Shelly Wexler.

Maybe it was that _well_. 

Whatever it was, he made a point to change quickly in his office, hoping to catch her before she left for the night.

She looked exhausted when he walked in her office, and he frowned. He had long since stopped pretending he could be indifferent where MacKenzie McHale was concerned.

She seemed surprised when he told her that he had apologized, and he wasn't sure what else he wanted to say (because he wasn't sure why, exactly, he was there in the _first_ place), he just knew that he wasn't ready to leave her company yet when her phone rang, and he settled into one of her chairs and motioned for her to answer.

"Wait," she said. " _What?_ " And his head shot up to meet her eyes.

"What?" He mouthed, but she shook her head, biting her lip in the way that she always did when she was concentrating on something. Will wasn't sure what was happening, but he knew it couldn't be _good,_ not with the way she had paled and he could see her hands shaking slightly as they held the receiver. Mac shook her head a few more times in apparent disbelief, and he leaned forward in his seat.

"Shit," she muttered into the phone, before hanging it up and looking like she was going to be sick.

"Are you okay? What happened?" Will asked, on his feet in an instant, already sweeping around to her side of the desk as she covered her face with her hands.

"I might be sick," Mac murmured. "I _sent_ them there." She uncovered her face, her eyes watery.

"What the fuck is happening, Mac?" Will asked, placing his hands on her shoulders firmly.

"Uganda," she said, sucking in a breath. "Something's happened in Uganda."

"Maggie and Gary? Are they okay?" Oh shit, he thought. Oh shit, shit, _shit_.  He knew that Mac had her concerns about this trip from the start, but she had said she trusted Maggie, and if Maggie said she was ready for something like this, she was ready for something like this.

Mac had a guilt complex to rival his own, and if something had happened to Gary or Maggie, well...shit.

"Yes, well, _physically_ they're both fine," Mac amended. "There was...they had to evacuate. Cattle raiders," she gave a bitter snort, and Will tightened his grip on her arms, "Of all the..." She shook her head. "While they were evacuating, there was gunfire. Maggie went back inside, I don't...she went back inside and there was a little boy. She was carrying him, on her back. They said she was carrying him on her back."

"What happened Mac?" Will asked, his voice softer this time.

"The little boy was shot," Mac looked him straight in the eye. "In the back. It would have...it would have hit Maggie if she hadn't been carrying..." She shivered, and he didn't really think about, he tugged her to her feet and into his arms.

"They're okay, though, right?" He asked. "Gary and Maggie?"

"They're at the embassy," Mac's voice was muffled from where it was now buried in his neck. "I _sent_ them there, Will. And that little boy...that poor little boy. I should have said no, I should have..."

"You had no idea," Will started, but he felt Mac shake her head in the crook of his neck.

"I have to make some calls. I'm going to get them on the next flight out. I'm going to try Gary's phone first," she was already pulling back, steeling herself for the tasks that lay ahead.

"I'll call Gary, you make the calls about the flight," Will told her, catching her hand as she moved away. There was more he wanted to say. How it wasn't her fault that this happened. How she couldn't have known. How it was fucked up, all of it, but she couldn't, shouldn't, blame herself. But the words died on his tongue and instead he gave her hand a squeeze, pulling out his cell phone and dialing Gary's number.

He moved away completely, stepping out of her office into the empty newsroom. Gary answered on the third ring. Will kept the conversation short. He assured Gary that he and Mac were aware of the situation and working on getting them the hell out of there.

"Is Maggie okay?" Will asked, and knew it was a stupid question as soon as it left his mouth.

"No," Gary said bluntly. Will promised to let Gary know once they got the flight details. He slipped his phone back in his pocket and glanced in at MacKenzie. She had hung up the phone and was sitting, her head tipped back in her chair. He pushed open her door, and she tilted her head slightly in his direction.

"They're calling me back," Mac reported.

"You should go home, I'll handle this," Will offered. "You're exhausted."

"Like I'll be able to sleep," Mac scoffed. "Fuck."

"I know, Mac."

" _Fuck_ ," Mac said again, louder this time. She pinched the bridge of her nose. Her phone rang and she grabbed it immediately. Will found himself, for the second time, sitting in the chair across from her, straining to hear her end of a painful conversation. He was just grateful that, while she was still pale, she had stopped trembling, using what Will always thought of as her "Executive Producer" voice. She thanked whoever was on the other end and hung up the phone.

"You get it worked out? I'll call Gary and let him know," Will offered, and Mac nodded, writing the flight number and time down and handing off a piece of paper to him.

"Thanks Will," she said, softly.

"They're coming home," he reminded her, and she didn't say anything, just slid her chair so that she wasn't facing him anymore, and he looked back one more time and saw her shoulders heaving as she cried, and he wanted to do _something_ , but he didn't know what, and fuck, he wasn't sure if it would be welcomed anyway. He was dating Nina, in the loosest sense of the word, and he and Mac, _well_. 

Instead, he called Gary back, and by the time he had gotten off the phone, Mac had slid her coat on and was stuffing things into a briefcase. Her eyes were rimmed red, but she gave him a small smile.

"I'm going to go home," she said. "Nothing else I can do here right now. They'll be on their way to the airport soon. I ordered a car to meet them at JFK when their flight gets in."

"You going to be okay?" Will wondered if he should offer to take her out for a drink (though he knew she'd turn that down) or dinner (he also knew she wasn't hungry. Not with the ball of regret and anxiety that had most certainly taken up residence in the pit of her stomach), just because the idea of her going home to her empty apartment made his stomach twist unpleasantly.

"I'll be fine," she insisted.

"Mac," he started, but then he didn't know how to finish it.

"I'll be fine," she repeated. "Good night, Will." And she swept past him, head down, out the door.

 


End file.
